The Twins? Who Lived and the Sorcerer's Stone
by Sealed Envelope
Summary: Harry and Laura Potter have lived with the Dursley's for ten miserable years, not knowing that the entire wizarding world knew their names. And of the entire wizarding world, there is one person with a special importance to their lives.
1. The Twins? Who Lived

Chapter 1 – The Twins Who Lived

Mr. and Mrs. Dursley, of number four, Privet Drive, were proud to say that they were perfectly normal, thank you very much. They were the last people you'd expect to be involved in anything strange or mysterious, because they just didn't hold with such nonsense. Mr. Dursley was the director of a firm called Grunnings, which made drills. He was a big, beefy man with hardly any neck, although he did have a very large mustache. Mrs. Dursley was thin and blonde and had nearly twice the usual amount of neck, which was very useful as she spent so much of her time craning over garden fences, spying on the neighbors. The Dursleys had a small son called Dudley and in their opinion there was no finer boy anywhere.

The Dursleys had everything they wanted, but they also had a secret, and their greatest fear was that somebody would discover it. They didn't think they could bear it if anyone found out about the Potters. Mrs. Potter was Mrs. Dursley's sister, but they hadn't met for several years; in fact, Mrs. Dursley pretended she didn't have a sister, because her sister and her good-for-nothing husband were as unDursleyish as it was possible to be. The Dursleys shuddered to think what the neighbors would say if the Potters arrived in the street. The Dursleys knew that the Potters had a small son, too, but they had never even seen him. This boy was another good reason for keeping the Potters away; they didn't want Dudley mixing with a child like that.

When Mr. and Mrs. Dursley woke up on the dull, gray Tuesday our story starts, there was nothing about the cloudy sky outside to suggest that strange and mysterious things would soon be happening all over the country. Mr. Dursley hummed as he picked out his most boring tie for work, and Mrs. Dursley gossiped away happily as she wrestled a screaming Dudley into his high chair. None of them noticed a large, tawny owl flutter past the window.

At half past eight, Mr. Dursley picked up his briefcase, pecked Mrs. Dursley on the cheek, and tried to kiss Dudley good-bye but missed, because Dudley was now having a tantrum and throwing his cereal at the walls.

"Little tyke," chortled Mr. Dursley as he left the house. He got into his car and backed out of number four's drive. It was on the corner of the street that he noticed the first sign of something peculiar – a cat reading a map. For a second, Mr. Dursley didn't realize what he had seen – then he jerked his head around to look again. There was a tabby cat standing on the corner of Privet Drive, but there wasn't a map in sight. What could he have been thinking of? It must have been a trick of the light. Mr. Dursley blinked and stared at the cat. It stared back. As Mr. Dursley drove around the corner and up the road, he watched the cat in his mirror. It was now reading the sign that said Privet Drive – no, _looking_ at the sign; cats couldn't read maps _or_ signs.

Mr. Dursley gave himself a little shake and put the cat out of his mind. As he drove toward town he thought of nothing except a large order of drills he was hoping to get that day.

But on the edge of town, drills were driven out of his mind by something else. As he sat in the usual morning traffic jam, he couldn't help noticing that there seemed to be a lot of strangely dressed people about. People in cloaks. Mr. Dursley couldn't bear people who dressed in funny clothes — the getups you saw on young people! He supposed this was some stupid new fashion. He drummed his fingers on the steering wheel and his eyes fell on a huddle of these weirdoes standing quite close by. They were whispering excitedly together. Mr. Dursley was enraged to see that a couple of them weren't young at all; why, that man had to be older than he was, and wearing an emerald-green cloak! The nerve of him! But then it struck Mr. Dursley that this was probably some silly stunt —these people were obviously collecting for something… yes, that would be it. The traffic moved on and a few minutes later, Mr. Dursley arrived in the Grunnings parking lot, his mind back on drills.

Mr. Dursley always sat with his back to the window in his office on the ninth floor. If he hadn't, he might have found it harder to concentrate on drills that morning. _He _didn't see the owls swooping past in broad daylight, though people down in the street did; they pointed and gazed open-mouthed as owl after owl sped overhead. Most of them had never seen an owl even at nighttime. Mr. Dursley, however, had a perfectly normal, owl-free morning. He yelled at five different people. He made several important telephone calls and shouted a bit more.

He was in a very good mood until lunchtime, when he thought he'd stretch his legs and walk across the road to buy himself a bun from the bakery. He'd forgotten all about the people in cloaks until he passed a group of them next to the baker's. He eyed them angrily as he passed. He didn't know why, but they made him uneasy.This bunch was whispering excitedly, too, and he couldn't see a single collecting tin. It was on his way back past them, clutching a large doughnut in a bag, that he caught a few words of what they were saying.

"The Potters, that's right, that's what I heard-"

"-Yes, their children -"

Mr. Dursley stopped dead. Fear flooded him. He looked back at the whisperers as if he wanted to say something to them, but thought better of it. He dashed back across the road, hurried up to his office, snapped at his secretary not to disturb him, seized his telephone, and had almost finished dialing his home number hen he changed his mind.

He put the receiver back down and stroked his mustache, thinking… no, he was being stupid. Potter wasn't such an unusual name. He was sure there were lots of people called Potter. There was no point in worrying Mrs. Dursley; she always got so upset at any mention of her sister – if _he'd_ a sister like that… but all the same, those people in cloaks…

He found it a lot harder to concentrate on drills that afternoon and when he left the building at five o'clock, he was still so worried that he walked straight into someone just outside the door.

"Sorry," he grunted, as the tiny old man stumbled and almost fell.

It was a few seconds before Mr. Dursley realized that the man was wearing a violet cloak. He didn't seem at all upset at being almost knocked to the ground. On the contrary, his face split into a wide smile and he said in a squeaky voice that made passerby stare, "Don't be sorry, my dear sir, for nothing could upset me today! Rejoice, for You-Know-Who has gone at last! Even Muggles like yourself should be celebrating this happy, happy day!" And the old man hugged Mr. Dursley around the middle and walked off.

Mr. Dursley stood rooted to the spot. A complete stranger had just hugged him. He also thought he had been called a Muggle, whatever that was. He was rattled. He hurried to his car and set off for home, hoping he was imagining things, which he had never hoped before, because he didn't approve of imagination.

As he pulled into the driveway of number four, the first thing he saw—and it didn't improve his mood — was the tabby cat he'd spotted that morning. It was now sitting on his garden wall. He was sure it was the same one; it had the same markings around its eyes.

"Shoo!" said Mr. Dursley loudly. The cat didn't move. It just gave him a stern look.

Was this normal cat behavior? Mr. Dursley wondered. Trying to pull himself together, he let himself into the house. He was still determined not to mention anything to his wife.

Mrs. Dursley had had a nice, normal day. She told him over dinner all about Mrs. Next Door's problems with her daughter and how Dudley had learned a new word ("Won't!"). Mr. Dursley tried to act normally. When Dudley had been put to bed, he went into the living room in time to catch the last report on the evening news:

"_And finally, bird-watchers everywhere have reported that the nation's owls have been behaving very unusually today. Although owls normally hunt at night and are hardly ever seen in daylight, there have been hundreds of sightings of these birds flying in every direction since sunrise. Experts are unable to explain why the owls have suddenly changed their sleeping pattern." The newscaster allowed himself a grin. "Most mysterious. And now, over to Jim McGuffin with the weather. Going to be any more showers of owls tonight, Jim?"_

"_Well, Ted," said the weatherman, "I don't know about that, but it's not only the owls that have been acting oddly today. Viewers as far apart as Kent, Yorkshire, and Dundee have been phoning in to tell me that instead of the rain I promised yesterday, they've had a downpour of shooting stars! Perhaps people have been celebrating Bonfire Night early — it's not until next week, folks! But I can promise a wet night tonight."_

Mr. Dursley sat frozen in his armchair. Shooting stars all over Britain? Owls flying by daylight? Mysterious people in cloaks all over the place? And a whisper, a whisper about the Potters…

Mrs. Dursley came into the living room carrying two cups of tea. It was no good. He'd have to say something to her. He cleared his throat nervously. "Er — Petunia, dear — you haven't heard from your sister lately, have you?"

As he had expected, Mrs. Dursley looked shocked and angry. After all, they normally pretended she didn't have a sister. "No," she said sharply. "Why?"

"Funny stuff on the news," Mr. Dursley mumbled. "Owls… shooting stars… and there were a lot of funny-looking people in town today…"

"_So?_" snapped Mrs. Dursley.

"Well, I just thought… maybe… it was something to do with… you know… _her_ crowd."

Mrs. Dursley sipped her tea through pursed lips. Mr. Dursley wondered whether he dared tell her he'd heard the name "Potter." He decided he didn't dare. Instead he said, as casually as he could, "Their kids — they'd be about Dudley's age now, wouldn't they?"

"I suppose so," said Mrs. Dursley stiffly.

"What are their names again?"

"Harry… and Laura… and… Oh, I don't know. Whatever they are, they're bound to be nasty, common names, if you ask me."

"Oh yes, I quite agree," said Mr. Dursley, his heart sinking horribly.

He didn't say another word on the subject as they went upstairs to bed. While Mrs. Dursley was in the bathroom, Mr. Dursley crept to the bedroom window and peered down into the front garden. The cat was still there. It was staring down Privet Drive as though it were waiting for something.

Was he imagining things? Could all this have anything to do with the Potters? If it did… if it got out that they were related to a pair of — well, he didn't think he could bear it.

The Dursleys got into bed. Mrs. Dursley fell asleep quickly but Mr. Dursley lay awake, turning it all over in his mind. His last, comforting thought before he fell asleep was that even if the Potters _were _involved, there was no reason for them to come near him and Mrs. Dursley. The Potters knew very well what he and Petunia thought about them and their kind… He couldn't see how he and Petunia could get mixed up in anything that might be going on — he yawned and turned over — it couldn't affect _them_…

How very wrong he was.

Mr. Dursley might have been drifting into an uneasy sleep, but the cat on the wall was showing no signs of sleepiness. It was sitting as still as a statue, its eyes fixed unblinkingly on the far corner of Privet Drive. It didn't so much as quiver when a car door slammed on the next street, nor when two owls swooped overhead. In fact it was nearly midnight before the cat moved at all.

A man appeared on the corner the cat had been watching, appeared so suddenly and silently you'd have thought he'd just popped out of the ground. The cat's tail twitched and its eyes narrowed.

Nothing like this man had ever been seen on Privet Drive. He was tall, thin, and very old, judging by the silver of his hair and beard, which were both long enough to tuck into his belt. He was wearing long robes, a purple cloak that swept the ground, and high-heeled, buckled boots. His blue eyes were light, bright and sparkling behind half-moon spectacles and his nose was very long and crooked, as though it had been broken at least twice. This man's name was Albus Dumbledore.

Albus Dumbledore didn't seem to realize that he had just arrived in a street where everything from his name to his boots was unwelcome. He was busy rummaging in his cloak, looking for something. But he did seem to realize he was being watched, because he looked up suddenly at the cat, which was still staring at him from the other end of the street. For some reason, the sight of the cat seemed to amuse him. He chuckled and muttered, "I should have known.".

He found what he was looking for in his inside pocket. It seemed to be a silver cigarette lighter. He flicked it open, held it up in the air, and clicked it. The nearest street lamp went out with a little pop.

He clicked it again — the next lamp flickered into darkness. Twelve times he clicked the Put-Outer, until the only lights left on the whole street were two tiny pinpricks in the distance, which were the eyes of the cat watching him. If anyone looked out of their window now, even beady-eyed Mrs. Dursley, they wouldn't be able to see anything that was happening down on the pavement. Dumbledore slipped the Put-Outer back inside his cloak and set off down the street toward number four, where he sat down on the wall next to the cat. He didn't look at it, but after a moment he spoke to it.

"Fancy seeing you here, Professor McGonagall."

He turned to smile at the tabby, but it had gone. Instead he was smiling at a rather severe-looking woman who was wearing square glasses exactly the shape of the markings the cat had had around its eyes. She, too, was wearing a cloak, an emerald one. Her black hair was drawn into a tight bun. She looked distinctly ruffled. "How did you know it was me?" she asked.

"My dear Professor, I've never seen a cat sit so stiffly."

"You'd be stiff if you'd been sitting on a brick wall all day," said Professor McGonagall.

"All day? When you could have been celebrating? I must have passed a dozen feasts and parties on my way here."

Professor McGonagall sniffed angrily. "Oh yes, everyone's celebrating, all right," she said impatiently. "You'd think they'd be a bit more careful, but no — even the Muggles have noticed something's going on. It was on their news." She jerked her head back at the Dursleys' dark living-room window. "I heard it. Flocks of owls… shooting stars… Well, they're not completely stupid. They were bound to notice something. Shooting stars down in Kent — I'll bet that was Dedalus Diggle. He never had much sense."

"You can't blame them," said Dumbledore gently. "We've had precious little to celebrate for eleven years."

"I know that," said Professor McGonagall irritably. "But that's no reason to lose our heads. People are being downright careless, out on the streets in broad daylight, not even dressed in Muggle clothes, swapping rumors."

She threw a sharp, sideways glance at Dumbledore here, as though hoping he was going to tell her something, but he didn't, so she went on. "A fine thing it would be if, on the very day You-Know-Who seems to have disappeared at last, the Muggles found out about us all. I suppose he really _has _gone, Dumbledore?"

"It certainly seems so," said Dumbledore.

"We have much to be thankful for. Would you care for a lemon drop?"

"A _what_?"

"A lemon drop. They're a kind of Muggle sweet I'm rather fond of."

"No, thank you," said Professor McGonagall coldly, as though she didn't think this was the moment for lemon drops. "As I say, even if You-Know-Who _has _gone —"

"My dear Professor, surely a sensible person like yourself can call him by his name? All this 'You-Know-Who' nonsense — for eleven years I have been trying to persuade people to call him by his proper name: _Voldemort_."

Professor McGonagall flinched, but Dumbledore, who was unsticking two lemon drops, seemed not to notice. "It all gets so confusing if we keep saying 'You-Know-Who.' I have never seen any reason to be frightened of saying Voldemort's name."

"I know you haven't," said Professor McGonagall, sounding half exasperated, half admiring. "But you're different. Everyone knows you're the only one You-Know- oh, all right, _Voldemort_, was frightened of."

"You flatter me," said Dumbledore calmly. "Voldemort had powers I will never have."

"Only because you're too — well —_noble _to use them."

"It's lucky it's dark. I haven't blushed so much since Madam Pomfrey told me she liked my new earmuffs."

Professor McGonagall shot a sharp look at Dumbledore and said, "The owls are nothing next to the _rumors _that are flying around. You know what they're saying? About why he's disappeared? About what finally stopped him?"

It seemed that Professor McGonagall had reached the point she was most anxious to discuss, the real reason she had been waiting on a cold, hard wall all day, for neither as a cat nor a woman had she fixed Dumbledore with such a piercing stare as she did now. It was plain that whatever 'everyone' was saying, she was not going to believe it until Dumbledore told her it was true. Dumbledore, however, was choosing another lemon drop and did not answer.

What they're saying," she pressed on, "is that last night Voldemort turned up in Godric's Hollow. He went to find the Potters. The rumor is that Lily and James Potter are- are- that they're - _dead_!"

Dumbledore bowed his head. Professor McGonagall gasped. "Lily and James… I can't believe it… I didn't want to believe it… Oh, Albus…"

Dumbledore reached out and patted her on the shoulder. "I know… I know…" he said heavily.

Professor McGonagall's voice trembled as she went on, "That's not all. They're saying that he tried to kill the Potter's children, but he couldn't, and that's why he's gone.

Dumbledore nodded glumly.

"It's- it's _true_?" faltered Professor McGonagall. "After all he's done… all the people he's killed… he couldn't kill…? It's just astounding… of all the things to stop him… but how in the name of heaven did they survive?"

"We can only guess," said Dumbledore. "We may never know."

Professor McGonagall pulled out a lace handkerchief and dabbed at her eyes beneath her spectacles. Dumbledore gave a great sniff as he took a golden watch from his pocket and examined it. It was a very odd watch. It had twelve hands but no numbers; instead, little planets were moving around the edge. It must have made sense to Dumbledore, though, because he put it back in his pocket and said, "Hagrid's late. I suppose it was he who told you I'd be here by the way?"

"Yes," said Professor McGonagall. "And I don't suppose you're going to tell me _why_ you're here, of all places?"

"I've come to bring the children to their aunt and uncle. They're the only family they have left now."

"You don't mean- you _can't_ mean the people who live _here?_" cried Professor McGonagall, jumping to her feet and pointing at number four. "Dumbledore – you can't. I've been watching them all day. You couldn't find two people who are less like us. And they've got this son – I saw him kicking his mother all the way up the street, screaming for sweets.. They, live _here_!"

"It's the best place for them," said Dumbledore firmly. "Their aunt and uncle will be able to explain everything the them when they're older. I've written them a letter."

"A letter?" repeated Professor McGonagall faintly, sitting back down on the wall. "Really Dumbledore, you think you can explain all this in a letter? These people will never understand them! They'll be famous — legends — I wouldn't be surprised if today was known as Potter Day in the future — there will be books written about them — every child in our world will know their names!"

"Exactly." said Dumbledore, looking very seriously over the top of his half-moon glasses. "It would be enough to turn any child's head. Famous before they can walk and talk! Famous for something they won't even remember! Can you see how much better off they'll be, growing up away from all that until they're ready to take it?"

Professor McGonagall opened her mouth, changed her mind, swallowed, and then said, "Yes — yes, you're right, of course. But how are they getting here, Dumbledore?" She eyed his cloak suddenly as though she thought he might be hiding them underneath it.

"Hagrid is bringing them."

You think it —_wise _— to trust Hagrid with something as important as this?"

"I would trust Hagrid with my life," said Dumbledore.

"I'm not saying his heart isn't in the right place," said Professor McGonagall grudgingly, "but you can't pretend he's not careless. He does tend to — what was that?"

A low rumbling sound had broken the silence around them. It grew steadily louder as they looked up and down the street for some sign of a headlight; it swelled to a roar as they both looked up at the sky — and a huge motorcycle fell out of the air and landed on the road in front of them.

If the motorcycle was huge, it was nothing to the man sitting astride it. He was almost twice as tall as a normal man and at least five times as wide. He looked simply too big to be allowed, and so _wild _— long tangles of bushy black hair and beard hid most of his face, he had hands the size of trash can lids, and his feet in their leather boots were like baby dolphins. In his vast, muscular arms he was holding two bundles of blankets.

"Hagrid," said Dumbledore, sounding relieved. "At last. And where did you get that motorcycle?"

"Borrowed it, Professor Dumbledore, sir," said the giant, climbing carefully off the motorcycle as he spoke. "Young Sirius Black lent it to me."

"No problems, were there?"

"No sir – house was almost destroyed, but I got them out all right before the Muggles started swarmin' around. Harry fell asleep as we was flyin' over Bristol."

The three bent over the two bundles of blankets in Hagrid's arms. In one, there was a baby boy, with a tuft of messy black hair. He was fast asleep. In the other was a baby girl, with small black curls, and bright green eyes, which were wide open, watching their every move. Both had thin cuts on their foreheads, in the shapes of small bolts of lightning.

"Is that where-" Professor McGonagall whispered.

"Yes," said Dumbledore. Looking at Hagrid. "But where is…?"

"Couldn't find her, Professor," he said sheepishly. "an' I had to leave righ' then, or…"

Professor McGonagall gave Professor Dumbledore a pointed look.

Dumbledore said, "Well I suppose it might have been difficult… let's look for her once we're done here." Then carefully, he took Harry and Laura in his arms, set them on the front porch of number four, placed a letter in Harry's blanket and stepped back.

The three stood and looked at the bundles on the stairs for a full minute. Hagrid's shoulders shook, Professor McGonagall blinked furiously, and the twinkling light that usually shone from Dumbledore's eyes seemed to have gone out.

"Well," said Dumbledore finally, "that's that. We've no business staying here." "We better go." He released the balls of light from the Put-Outer, and held out both of his arms. Professor McGonagall and Hagrid each grabbed an arm, and the three vanished with a soft pop.

A breeze ruffled the neat hedges of Privet Drive, which lay silent and tidy under the inky sky, the very last people you would expect astonishing things to happen. The two babies rolled over inside their blankets and wrapped their arms around each other, and Laura drifted off to sleep. One of Harry's hands closed on the letter beside him. They both slept on, not knowing they were special, not knowing they was famous, not knowing they would be woken in a few hours' time by Mrs. Dursley's scream as she opened the front door to put out the milk bottles, nor that Harry would spend the next few weeks being prodded and pinched by their cousin Dudley, nor that Laura would be yelled at for punching Dudley when he tried the same thing to her… They couldn't know that this very moment, people meeting in secret all over the country were holding up their glasses and toasting them in hushed voices. For now, they slept peacefully.


	2. The Vanishing Glass

Chapter 2 – Snake

Nearly ten years had passed since the day Harry and Laura were left on their aunt and uncle's doorstep, but there was no evidence suggesting they were living there.

"Up!" Their Aunt Petunia screeched, making the first noise of the day. "Get up! Now!"

Harry opened his eyes and saw his sister watching him. Her hair and eyes were grey from exhaustion. It had been his turn to sleep last night, since both of them couldn't sleep at the same time. The cupboard under the stairs in which they slept was simply too small.

She smiled tiredly at him, handed him a pair of socks and his glasses and put on _her_ glasses and a black wig. There wasn't much she could do for her eyes, but hopefully no one would notice.

"You get _any_ sleep last night?" he asked.

"A little," Laura responded. "I think I got about an hou-"

"Are you up yet?" interrupted Aunt Petunia.

"Yes, Aunt Petunia," said Laura tiredly, and left the cupboard.

"Tend to the bacon, but don't you dare let it burn. I want everything to be perfect for Duddy's birthday."

The two of them went into the kitchen, were Dudley was counting his presents.

The phone rang while they were in the middle of breakfast. Aunt Petunia answered the phone as Dudley opened half of his presents. When she returned, she had a scowl on her face.

"Bad news, Vernon. Mrs. Figg broke her leg. "She can't take them while we go to the zoo."

Dudley's mouth fell open in horror, and he pretended to cry. "I… don't… want… them… t-t-to come!"

"Don't worry Duddy-kins! We won't let them ruin your special day!"

Dudley's best friend, Piers Polkiss walked in with his mom. He stopped pretending to cry immediately.

A half hour later, Harry and Laura were sitting in the back of the car. Before they had gotten in, Uncle Vernon had pulled them aside and warned them against any "funny business".

The thing was, weird things often happened around the twins. Like the time that Harry had seemingly vanished and then turned up on the chimney of the school's roof. Or the time where all of the food in the cafeteria started to chase Dudley when he was teasing Laura.

But they were determined that nothing would go wrong today. That was, until Harry remembered his dream.

"MOTORCYCLES DON'T FLY!" Uncle Vernon yelled.

Dudley and Piers sniggered.

"I know," Harry muttered. "It was just a dream." But Laura could tell that he wished he hadn't said anything. There was nothing Uncle Vernon hated more than imagination.

At the zoo later that afternoon, the six of them headed over to the Reptile House.

Laura was looking at a Komodo Dragon when she heard screams coming from the other side of the Reptile House. She printed over toward the screams to find everyone running towards the exits, and a huge snake was slithering out of the door.

Dudley was inside of a glass case in which she assumed the snake had previously been in, and Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia had their faces and hands pressed up against the glass.

Laura walked over to Harry, who was sitting on the floor several feet away, laughing.

"What did you _do_?" she whispered to Harry.

"I have no idea…" Harry trailed off and his smile faltered as he caught Uncle Vernon's glare.

On the ride home, Dudley and Piers had changed the story so that to anyone who listened, Harry had told the snake to bite their legs off. They dropped Piers off, and had barely reached home when Uncle Vernon exploded.

"YOU!" He bellowed, grabbing Harry by the arm. "HOW DARE YOU DO THAT TO MY SON, YOU…"

"Go to your cupboard, Laura." Aunt Petunia whispered. Laura ran in and closed the door. She heard her Uncle screaming at Harry through the closed door and locked door. She sighed. They had long since given up hope that someone would come and rescue them, but it was at times like this that she couldn't stop praying.


	3. Pranks and Letters

Chapter 3 – Pranks and Letters

It was 2:57 on the last day of school. Unlike most people, Harry and Laura didn't enjoy the holidays. During the summer, there was no escaping the Dursley's, or Dudley's gang, who visited the house every day.

2:58.

Still, the holidays weren't too long, and next year, the twins were going to a different school than Dudley. Maybe Harry would then be able to make some friends.

2:59.

Laura's hand itched toward the clear piece of wire attached to the tile above the teacher, Mrs. William's, head. She had always been a practical joker, but she was careful, and she hadn't been found out yet. If she had…

3:00.

Just as the bell rang, Laura pulled on the wire. The tile swung open… followed by about fifty water-balloons. Laura laughed with the rest of the students at her shocked expression, and moved quickly out of the room.

She met up with her only friend, Jade, outside the door. Laura was lucky; Harry didn't have any friends.

The pair had just gotten out of the school gates when Jade pulled her behind a couple of bushes.

"Laura," Jade said. "Today is possibly the last time I'll ever see you, with you leaving to go to Stonewall…" She hesitated. "I know I've asked before, and you said no, but can you _please_ tell me? I mean I understand if you don't, but-"

"Spit it out, Jade."

"Sorry, but… why do you always wear a wig?"

Laura waited a minute before replying. She chose her words carefully. "You won't believe me."

"Why not?" Jade asked.

"Because… Oh, it's so hard to explain…"

"Then show me?"

"Oh, why not!" Laura relented, ripping the wig from her head.

"It makes even less sense now," Jane snorted. "Why do you wear a black wig if you have black hair?"

"Because, well…" Laura said. "Oh this sounds so stupid… My hair kind of… changes colors." Laura's face flushed, and her hair faded into a red-ish pink. "I can't control it though… hence the wig."

"That'd be hilarious!" Jade laughed. "We'd be sitting in the middle of class, and your hair would suddenly turn blue!" She stopped laughing. "Do you know why though?"

"It tends to correspond with my emotions, but no, I've got no idea where it came from."

The two walked towards Number 4, Privet Drive. When they reached Laura's street, the two hugged.

I'll try to write you, but…" Laura said.

"I know. Good luck!"

The next day, Harry was finally allowed out of his cupboard. They were all sitting at the table, eating breakfast when they heard the mail flap open.

"Get the mail, Dudley," Uncle Vernon said.

"Make Harry get it." Dudley whined.

"Get the mail, Harry."

"Make Dudley get it." Harry retorted.

"Hit him with your new Smelting Stick, Dudley."

"I'll get it!" Laura called. She walked over to the front door and looked at the envelopes. There was a bill, a postcard, and _a letter for Harry and Laura_! Hers was addressed:

_**Ms. L. Potter**_

_**The Cupboard Under the Stairs**_

_**4 Privet Drive**_

_**Little Whinging**_

_**Surrey**_

Laura walked back to the table, giving the bill and postcard to Uncle Vernon, and was about to open her letter when it and Harry's letter were jerked out of her hands.

"Give them back!" Laura shouted at Uncle Vernon. "They're ours!"

"Who'd be writing to you?" he sneered, opening up the letter.

As he read it, his face went from red to green to white.

"P-P-Petunia!" Aunt Petunia took the letter and looked at it curiously, as Uncle Vernon grabbed the three children and moved them into the next room. They only had enough time to see Aunt Petunia's face turn ashen white before the door was slammed in their face.

Laura and Harry pressed their ears against the bottom of the doorway as Dudley listened at the keyhole.

"Vernon," Aunt Petunia said in a quavering voice. "Look at the address! How do they know where they sleep? Do you think they're watching the house? What do we do?"

"We'll ignore it. That's right, if they don't get an answer…"

"But…"

"We swore when we took them in that we'd stomp out this dangerous nonsense!"

That evening, Uncle Vernon visited Harry and Laura in their cupboard.

"Where are our letters?" the twins asked at the same time. "Who was writing to us?"

"No one. They were addressed to you by mistake. Now," Uncle Vernon said, changing the subject. "About this cupboard, your aunt and I have been thinking, your aunt and I have been thinking, you are getting a bit big for it… we thought it would be nice if you moved into Dudley's second bedroom."

"Why?" they asked.

"Don't ask questions," he snapped. "Now move this stuff upstairs, now."

Sitting in their new room, they looked at each other. They would both rather be downstairs with the letters than up here without them.

The next morning, Uncle Vernon, who seemed to be trying to be nice to Harry and Laura, made Dudley go get the mail.

"Dad, here's two more of the letters!" Dudley shouted from the front door.

With a strangled cry, Uncle Vernon leapt up and ran to the front door, closely followed by Harry and Laura.

After a moment of confused fighting for the letters, in which everyone got hit a lot by Dudley's Smelting Stick, Uncle Vernon straightened up with the letters clutched in his hand.

"You three," he wheezed. "Go. Just go."

The next morning, Harry snuck out of their room to see if he could get the letters before Uncle Dursley.

Obviously his plan didn't work, because when Laura came down an hour later, Uncle Vernon was tearing up the six letters that had come that morning. He didn't go to work that day. He stayed home and nailed up the mail slot.

"See," he explained to Aunt Petunia through a mouthful of nails, "if they can't deliver them, then they'll just give up."

"I'm not sure that'll work, Vernon."

"These people's minds work in strange ways, Petunia. They're not like you or me," he said, trying to knock in a nail with a piece of the fruitcake Aunt Petunia had brought him.

On Friday, no less than twelve letters arrived for them. They had been pushed under the door, slotted through the sides, and a few came through the small window in the downstairs bathroom.

Uncle Vernon stayed home again that day. After burning the letters, he boarded up all the small cracks around the house. He hummed "Tiptoe Through the Tulips" as he worked, and jumped at small noises, which Laura took the liberty of making as many as she possibly could.

On Saturday, twenty-four letters came rolled up inside each of the eggs their very confused milkman handed Aunt Petunia through the living room window.

"Who on earth wants to talk to you two this badly?" asked an amazed Dudley.

On Sunday, Uncle Vernon sat down at the table looking tired, and rather ill, but happy.

"No post on Sundays!" he reminded them cheerfully as he spread marmalade on his newspapers. "No damn letters today-"

Just as he finished, fifty or so letters came flying out of the fireplace.

"That's it!" Uncle Vernon screamed, while tearing out big chunks of his mustache. "We're leaving! Be here in five minutes."

Harry and Laura gave each other a look.

Monday night, the five of them were in a small shack on a rock in the ocean. Harry and Laura were curled up on the floor under a ragged blanket. Laura looked at Dudley's watch. 11:59. She and Harry would be eleven in a minute's time.

Thirty seconds.

Laura wondered whether or not the Dursleys would remember. Probably not.

Ten seconds.

It's not like they had ever cared about her or her twin.

They counted out the last few seconds together."Three… two… one…"

12:00.

"Happy Birthday," the twins said to each other.

BOOM!

Harry and Laura looked up at the door, and then at each other, startled. Someone had managed to cross the ocean in the middle of the storm, and was knocking on the door.


	4. Keeper of the Keys

Chapter 4 – Keeper of the Keys

BOOM!

Whoever it was at the door knocked again. Uncle Vernon, who was holding a rifle in his shaking hands, came skidding out of the shack's bedroom, followed by Aunt Petunia.

"Who's there?" he shouted. "I warn you, I'm armed!"

There was a pause. Then-

SMASH!

The door was shoved out of its frame, and landed on the floor with a deafening crash. In the doorway was a giant man whose face was completely covered with a wild mane of hair, and with two friendly, black eyes barely visible.

The man walked in, shoved Dudley aside with a grunt, and sat down on the couch. He looked at the twins.

"An' here's Harry an' Laura!" said the giant. "Las' time I saw yeh, yeh was only babies! Yeh two look a lot like yer dad, but yeh've got yer mom's eyes."

"I demand that you leave at on-" Uncle Vernon cut off and let out a terrified squeak as the giant yanked the gun out of his hands, twisted it into a knot, and threw it into the corner.

"Wicked!" the twins exclaimed.

"Anyway," said the giant, turning back to the twins, " a very happy birthday to yeh. Got summat fer yeh here. I mighta sat on it, but it'll taste all right."

From an inside pocket of his overcoat he pulled a slightly squashed box. Harry and Laura opened it, and inside was a large sticky cake with _Happy Birthday Harry and Laura_ written in green icing.

They looked up at the giant, meaning to thank him, but instead it came out as, "Who are you?"

"True," the giant chuckled. "I haven't introduced myself. I'm Rubeus Hagrid, Keeper of the Keys and Grounds at Hogwarts."

"Er… what's Hogwarts?" Laura asked.

Hagrid looked at him in shock.

"Sorry," she said quickly.

"_Sorry_? It's them that should be sorry! I knew yeh wouldn't even know abou' Hogwarts, fer crying out loud! Did yeh never wonder where yer parents learned it all?

"Learned what?" asked Harry.

"Now wait jus' one second!" Hagrid thundered as he leapt to his feet. "Do you mean to tell me," he growled at the Dursleys, "that these kids, know nothin' abou'- abou' ANYTHING?

Harry was about to say something, but Harry nudged him with a grin on her face, and he closed his mouth again. It was interesting to watch the Dursleys cowering in the corner.

Hagrid turned back to the twins, and said quietly, "What _do_ you know abou' our world."

The twins looked at each other quizzically. "What world?"

"DURSLEY!"

Hagrid stared wildly at Harry and Laura.

"But yeh must know 'bout yer mom and dad. I mean, they're famous! Yer famous!

"We're famous?" asked Laura.

"Yeh don't know what yeh are?" Hagrid asked.

Uncle Vernon finally found his voice, and said to Hagrid, "Stop! Stop right there! I forbid you to tell them anything!"

Uncle Vernon quailed under the scathing look Hagrid gave him. When he spoke, every syllable trembled with rage.

"Yeh never told them? Never told them what was in the letter Dumbledore left for them? I was there! I saw him leave it! And yeh've kept it from them all these years?"

"Kept _what _from us?" asked Harry eagerly.

"STOP! I FORBID YOU!" yelled Uncle Vernon in a panic, as Aunt Petunia gave a gasp of horror.

"Ah, go boil yer heads, both of yeh," said Hagrid. "Laura, Harry- yer a witch and wizard."

There was silence inside the hut.

"We're _what_?" gasped the twins.

"A witch and wizard, o' course," said Hagrid, sitting back on the sofa, "an' a thumpin' good'un, I'd say, once yeh've been trained upa bit. With a mum an' dad like yours, what else would yeh be? An' I reckon it's about' time yeh read yer letter."

Laura and Harry stretched out their hands for the two envelopes. Laura looked at hers. It was addressed to Ms. L. Potter, The Floor, Hut-on-the-Rock, The Sea. She pulled out the letter and read:

_HOGWARTS SCHOOL_

_of WITCHCRAFT and WIZARDRY_

_---_

_Headmaster: Albus Dumbledore_

_Dear Ms. Potter,_

_We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment. Term begins on September 1. We await your owl by no later than July 31._

_Yours sincerely,_

_Minerva McGonagall, Deputy Headmistress_

Laura could feel her hair turning yellow with shock under her wig. She could hear Harry asking a question, but it sounded funny. She looked up dizzily and vaguely heard a familiar voice shouting, before collapsing in a heap on the ground.

Some time later, Laura slowly opened her eyes. She saw Harry leaning over her, and slowly sat up. She looked over into the corner of the hut, and through the weak beams of light now coming through the window, saw Hagrid yelling at the Dursleys, Dudley clutching his butt.

"Oh, Laura, you're awake." Harry whispered to her. "You passed out just after reading you're letter."

"Must be the shock," she replied. "It's not every day someone gets a letter saying they're a witch, you know."

Harry laughed. "I know, I can't belie-" He was cut off as a brown owl with a newspaper started rapping his beak at the only window in the hut.

Hagrid stopped yelling, and walked over to the window. He opened it, gave the owl five bronze coins, took the newspaper, and threw the owl back out the window. He spotted Laura as he turned back around.

"Ah, good, yer awake," he said. "We better get goin'. Don' wanna meet too many Muggles."

"Muggles?" Laura asked, as the three of them left, leaving the Dursleys staring after them.

"Non magic folk," he replied as they got into the boat that the Dursleys and the twins had come in.

As they drifted across the sea, Harry repeated what had happened after Laura fainted. Laura listened intently as Harry told her about Voldemort.

"Voldemort had killed hundreds of people already. He came to our house on Halloween night, when we were about one year old. He killed our mum and dad… and he came up to our room, and tried to kill us too; Hagrid thought that maybe he just wanted to make a clean job of it, or he just liked killing by then." Harry shuddered. "But for some reason… he couldn't. The second You-Know-Who failed to kill us, he vanished, and we were left with nothing but our scars. That's why we're famous!"

Laura was quiet for a moment. Then she asked, "What were the Dursley's reactions?"

Harry laughed, "Oh, they were absolutely furious! Uncle Vernon shouted a bit, and Aunt Petunia revealed that she knew it all along. She called us freaks, too, but that's nothing new. Then Uncle Vernon said that he wouldn't pay to have some crackpot fool teach us magic, and Hagrid was furious! He was so mad that he gave Dudley a pig's tail!"

"So _that's_ why he was clutching his bottom!" Laura said.

Hagrid and the twins got out of the old boat, and Laura asked, "Wait, how are the Dursleys going to get back?"

"Who cares?" was Harry's response. The twins had never been to London before, and they were looking around at all of the shops.

"Do you really think that any of these sell wands, or broomsticks?" Laura whispered to Harry.

"It doesn't seem like it…" Harry replied. "You don't think that this is some joke the Dursleys cooked up, do you?"

She looked at him incredulously and said, "You know the Dursleys don't have a sense of humor!"

He chuckled. "Good point."


	5. Diagon Alley

Chapter 5 – Diagon Alley

Hagrid seemed to know exactly where they were going, was obviously not used to getting there in an ordinary way. He got stuck in the ticket barrier in the Underground, and complained loudly that the seats were too small, and the trains too slow. After passing several bookshops, music stores, cinemas, and restaurants, Hagrid stopped.

"This is it," he announced. "The Leaky Cauldron. It's a famous place."

It was a tiny, grubby-looking pub, and if Hagrid hadn't pointed it out, the twins wouldn't have noticed it. As it was, all of the people hurrying by moved right past it as if they couldn't see it at all. In fact, Laura had the most peculiar feeling that they couldn't, and by looking at Harry's face, he thought so too.

"Can the… Muggles see it, Hagrid?" she asked.

"Nope." He replied, pushing open the door. "Got Muggle repellin' charms on it. In yeh go!"

The twins walked in after Hagrid, and looked around. It was very dark and shabby, and gave Laura the creeps. The low buzz of chatter stopped when Hagrid walked in. Everyone seemed to know Hagrid; they waved and smiled at him, and the bartender reached for a glass, saying, "The usual, Hagrid?"

"Can't Tom, I'm on Hogwarts business," clapping each of his great hands on each of their shoulders, making Laura and Harry's knees buckle.

"Good Lord," said the bartender, peering at Harry and Laura, "are they- can they be-?"

The Leaky Cauldron had suddenly still and silent.

"Bless my soul," whispered the old bartender, "Harry and Laura Potter… what an honor."

The next moment, there was a great scraping of chairs, and Harry and Laura found themselves shaking hands with everyone in the Leaky Cauldron.

"Doris Crockford, Ms. Potter, can't believe I'm meeting you at last."

"Delighted, Ms. Potter."

"Always wanted to shake your hand."

Laura looked over at Harry, who was surrounded by just as many witches and wizards as he, and a small witch, probably four years old, walked up and asked for his autograph. Harry looked over at Laura, and she winked. She turned back to the crowd gathering around her, and saw a pale young man making his way forward, one of his eyes twitching.

"H-hello, P-P-Potter," The man stammered. "I'm P-Professor Q-Quirrell."

"Hello, Professor," Laura greeted Professor Quirrell. If this man was going to be teaching at Hogwarts, she wanted to know as much about him as possible. "What kind of magic do you teach?"

"D-Defense Against the D-D-Dark Arts," muttered Professor Quirrell, as though he would rather not think about it. "N-Not that you n-need it, eh, P-P-Potter?" He laughed nervously. "You'll be g-getting all your equipment, I suppose? I've g-got to p-pick up a new b-book on vampires, m-myself." He looked terrified at the very thought.

"Well it was nice meeting you Professor," Laura said; Hagrid was motioning for her to follow him. "See you at Hogwarts!"

Harry, Laura and Hagrid, after ten minutes of handshaking, finally managed to squeeze out into a small courtyard on the other side of the bar. Once they were outside, Hagrid beamed at the two of them.

"Told yeh, didn't I? Told yeh you were famous! Even Professor Quirrell was tremblin' to meet yeh- mind you, he's usually tremblin'.

"Is he normally that nervous?" Laura asked.

"Oh, yeah. Poor bloke. Brilliant mind. He was fine while he was studyin' outta books but then he took a year off ter get some firsthan' experience… They say he met vampires in the Black Forest, and then there was a nasty bit o' trouble with a hag – never been the same since. Scared of his students, scared of his own subject – now, where's me umbrella?"

Laura looked at Harry. "Vampires?" he mouthed. Laura shrugged. At this point, nothing would surprise her. When she looked back at Hagrid, he had out his pink umbrella, and was poking a brick that was a little bit above a trashcan with it.

"Here we go. Stan' back!" Hagrid said as he prodded the brick once more. The bricks started shifting and moving until there was an archway leading out of what was once solid brick wall.

"Welcome," Hagrid said, "to Diagon Alley."

Laura wished she had at least eight more eyes. There were all sorts of shops; ones that sold cauldrons, an Apothecary, and a bunch of boys about her age were standing with their noses pressed against the window of one shop. She heard them talking as she walked by, "It's the new Nimbus 2000! The fastest ever!"

There were shops selling robes, and shops selling quills and rolls of parchment.

Then Laura remembered something as she was reading the list of school supplies necessary for first years. "Hagrid?" she asked. "How are we supposed to pay for any of this? We haven't got any money."

"There yeh are Laura," he said, pointing to a giant white building that towered above all of the other shops. "That's Gringotts. It's the wizard bank."

"Wizards have banks?" Harry asked.

"Jus' the one," Hagrid replied. "Ain't no safer place, 'cept perhaps Hogwarts; it's guarded by-"

"Goblins?" she asked, having spotted one by the burnished bronze doors. He was a head shorter than either one of the twins, had a clever, swarthy face, which was covered by a long beard. He also had long fingers and toes, she noticed, as he bowed them inside.

There, they came across another set of doors, silver this time, with words engraved upon them:

_Enter, stranger, but take heed_

_Of what awaits the sin of greed,_

_For those who take, but do not earn,_

_Must pay most dearly in their turn._

_So if you seek beneath our floors_

_A treasure that was never yours,_

_Thief, you have been warned, beware_

_Of finding more than treasure there._

"Yeh'd be mad ter try an' rob it," said Hagrid.

A pair of goblins bowed them through the doors, and they moved into a vast marble hall. About a hundred goblins were sitting behind the counters, and there were too many doors to count leading off the hall. Hagrid showed Harry and Laura over to the counter.

"Morning," said Hagrid to a free goblin. "We've come ter take some money out of Mr. Harry Potter and Ms. Laura Potter's safe."

"You have their key, sir?"

"Got it here somewhere," said Hagrid, and he started emptying his pockets onto the counter, scattering a handful of moldy dog biscuits over the goblin's book of numbers.

"Got it," said Hagrid at last, holding up a tiny golden key, which the goblin looked at closely. "An' I've also got a letter here from Professor Dumbledore," said Hagrid importantly, throwing out his chest. "It's about the You-Know-What in vault seven hundred and thirteen."

The goblin read the letter carefully, before replying, "very well, I will have someone take you down. Griphook!"

Griphook was yet another goblin. Once Hagrid had crammed all the dog biscuits back inside his pockets, he and the twins followed Griphook toward one of the many doors.

"What's in vault seven hundred and thirteen?" asked the twins.

"Can't tell yeh that," said Hagrid mysteriously. "Very secret. Hogwarts business. Dumbledore's trusted me. More'n my jobs worth ter tell yeh that."

"Great," Laura whispered to Harry. "Now, I'm never going to stop wondering about it…"

They passed through the door into a stone passageway lit with flaming torches. There were railway tracks on the floor, sloping steeply downward. The four climbed in – Hagrid with some difficulty – and they were off. At first they just hurtled through a maze of twisting passages, Laura hanging on to her wig so it wouldn't fly off. She tried to remember, left, right, right, left, middle fork, right, left, but it was impossible. Once, she saw a burst of fire at the end of a passage, but before she could see if it was a dragon, they had rushed past.

As they passed an underground lake, Harry called out over the noise of the cart, "I never know, what's the difference between a stalagmite and a stalactite?"

Laura started at him with her mouth open, as Hagrid responded, "Stalagmite's got an 'm' in it. Don't ask me any more questions, I think I'm going to be sick."

"Harry," Laura said, as if she was talking to a five year old. "We're racing through passageways underneath a wizard bank, and you actually care?"

"No not really… Just thought I'd ask," Harry chuckled.

They cart stopped, and Hagrid got out and leaned on the wall, knees shaking. Griphook walked over to the vault, put the key in the lock, and pulled it open. A lot of green smoke came billowing out, and as it cleared, both Harry and Laura gasped. Inside were mounds of gold coins. Columns of silver. Heaps of little bronze coins.

"All yours," smiled Hagrid.

"All theirs - it was incredible. The Dursleys couldn't have known about this or they'd have had it from them faster than blinking. How often had they complained how much the twins cost them to keep? And all the time there had been a small fortune belonging to them.

Hagrid helped Harry and Laura pile some of it into two bags, explaining about the money. "The Gold ones are Galleons. Seventeen silver Sickles to a Galleon and twenty-nine bronze Knuts to a Sickle, it's easy enough." Turning to Griphook, he said, "Vault seven hundred and thirteen now, please, and can we go more slowly?"

"One speed only," said Griphook.

Deeper and deeper they went gathering speed, until they stopped at vault seven hundred and thirteen, which had no keyhole.

"Stand back," the goblin said importantly. He stroked the door gently with one of his long fingers and it simply melted away.

"What would happen if I tried that?" asked Laura.

The goblin smiled rather wickedly. "You would be sucked inside and trapped there. We check to see if someone's inside about once every ten years."

The smoke had finished pouring out of the door, and Laura leaned forward to see what was in the high-security vault. She looked at the vault's only contents, a small grubby package wrapped in brown paper. Hagrid picked it up, put it in one of his many pockets, and walked back outside.

"Come on, back in this infernal cart, and don't talk to me on the way back, it's best if I keep me mouth shut," said Hagrid.

*****

"Let's get yer uniforms firs'," said Hagrid, nodding toward Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions. "I'm gonna go get a pick-me-up from the Leaky Cauldron. I hate them Gringotts carts." The twins entered Madam Malkin's shop alone, Harry looking rather nervous, and Laura excited.

"Hogwarts, dears?" the woman Laura took to be Madam Malkin said. "Got another young man being fitted up just now, in fact."

In the back of the shop, a boy with a pale pointed face was standing on a footstool while a second witch pinned up his long black robes. Laura and Harry got on the stools next to him.

"Hello," said the boy. "Hogwarts too?"

"Yes," Laura replied.

"Malfoy. Draco Malfoy," he said with a slight smirk on his face. "You know, I think after I'm done getting supplies that I'll go drag father off to look at racing brooms, and get him to buy me one. Have _you_ got your own broom?"

"No," said Harry. Laura could tell that he strongly disliked the boy.

"Play Quidditch at all?"

"No."

"I do. Father says it's a crime if I'm not picked to play for my house, and I must say, I agree. Know what house you'll be in yet?"

"No," Laura said. She could see where Harry was coming from, this boy reminded her of Dudley.

"Well no one really knows until they get there, of course, but I know I'll be in Slytherin, all our family have been – imagine being in Hufflepuff, I think I'd leave wouldn't you?"

"Mmm," she said, wishing she could say something more interesting.

"What's your name, anyway?"

"I'm Laura Potter," she said, enjoying the look of astonishment on his face. "And this is my brother Harry."

After the boy had managed to close his mouth, he sneered, "Where's your sister, then?"

Harry and Laura looked at each other, and asked, "What sister?"

"That's you done, my dears," Madam Malkin said. Laura and Harry, not sorry for the excuse to stop talking to the boy, hopped down from the stools. Laura was thankful for the interruption; she wasn't sure how much longer she could go without snapping. She supposed that it wouldn't be good to hurt someone before school even started.

The twins walked outside with their robes, and Laura asked Hagrid what Quidditch was.

"Blimey, I keep forgettin' how little yeh know. It's our sport. Wizard sport. It's played up in the air on broomsticks, but it's kind of hard to explain the rules."

"And what are Slytherin and Hufflepuff?"

"School houses. There's four-"

"What are they?"

Hagrid smiled. "You'll find out soon enough."

They stopped at Flourish and Blotts to get their schoolbooks, and a couple of other books for Laura, including _Quidditch Through the Ages_ and _Hogwarts, A History_. Hagrid had to drag her away from one she was reading, called _Curses and Countercurses_, in order to figure out how to curse Dudley.

"I'm not sayin' that's not a good idea, but yer not allowed to use magic in the Muggle world except in very special circumstances."

They stopped by the Apothecary as well, and then Laura checked her list again, and said, "We just need wands."

"Follow me firs'," said Hagrid. "Got ter get yer a birthday present."

Twenty minutes later, they had left Eeylops Owl Emporium. Harry was carrying a large cage with a beautiful snowy owl inside, and Laura one with a solid black owl. They couldn't stop stammering their thanks, managing to sound like Professor Quirrell.

"Don' mention it," said Hagrid gruffly. "Don' expect you've had a lotta presents from the Dursleys. Jus' Ollivanders left now – only place fer wands."

A magic wand. This was what Laura had been looking forward to. They entered a small shabby shop with a single wand on display in the window.

A tinkling bell rang somewhere in the depths of the shop as they stepped inside. It was a tiny place; empty except for a single spindly chair that Hagrid sat on to wait. Harry felt strangely as though he had entered a very strict library; he swallowed a lot of new questions that had just occurred to him and looked instead at the thousands of narrow boxes piled neatly right up to the ceiling. For some reason, the back of his neck prickled. The very dust and silence in here seemed to tingle with some secret magic.

"Good afternoon," said a soft voice. Harry jumped. Hagrid must have jumped, too, because there was a loud crunching noise and he got quickly off the spindly chair. But Laura had seen the man in the shadows before he said anything, so she smiled at him.

"Hi," she said, and Harry stared at her incredulously.

"Ah yes," said the man. "Yes, yes. I thought I'd be seeing you soon. Harry and Laura Potter." It wasn't a question. "You have your mother's eyes. It seems only yesterday she was in here herself, buying her first wand. Ten and a quarter inches long, swishy, made of willow. Nice wand for charm work."

Laura smiled. This was the first she had heard of her parents. "What about my dad?" she asked eagerly.

He smiled slightly too as he said, "Your father favored a mahogany wand. Eleven inches. Pliable. A little more power and excellent for transfiguration. Well, I say your father favored it — it's really the wand that chooses the wizard, of course." Mr. Ollivander moved closer and touched the lightning scar on Harry's forehead with a long, white finger. "I'm sorry to say I sold the wand that did it. Thirteen-and-a-half inches. Yew. Powerful wand, very powerful, and in the wrong hands… well, if I'd known what that wand was going out into the world to do…"

He shook his head and then, spotted Hagrid.

"Rubeus! Rubeus Hagrid! How nice to see you again… Oak, sixteen inches, rather bendy, wasn't it?

"It was, sir, yes," said Hagrid.

"Good wand, that one. But I suppose they snapped it in half when you got expelled?" said Mr. Ollivander, suddenly stern.

"Er — yes, they did, yes," said Hagrid, shuffling his feet. "I've still got the pieces, though," he added brightly.

"But you don't _use _them?" said Mr. Ollivander sharply.

"Oh, no, sir," said Hagrid quickly. Harry noticed he gripped his pink umbrella very tightly as he spoke.

_Hmm…_ Laura thought. _So he's not allowed to do magic… the wand pieces are in his umbrella. Yeah, I kind of see what he means about not telling anyone._

"Well now…" he said. "Mr. and Ms. Potter. Which is your wand arm?"

"My right," said Laura, and Harry nodded his head.

"Hold out your arms. That's it." He measured Harry and Laura from shoulder to finger, then wrist to elbow, shoulder to floor, knee to armpit and round his head. As he measured, he said, "Every Ollivander wand has a core of a powerful magical substance, Mr. Potter. We use unicorn hairs, phoenix tail feathers, and the heartstrings of dragons. No two Ollivander wands are the same, just as no two unicorns, dragons, or phoenixes are quite the same. And of course, you will never get such good results with another wizard's wand."

Laura suddenly realized that the tape measure, which was measuring between Harry's nostrils, was doing this on its own. Mr. Ollivander was flitting around the shelves, taking down boxes.

"That will do," he said, and the tape measure crumpled into a heap on the floor. "Right then, Mr. Potter. Try this one. Beechwood and dragon heartstring. Nine inches. Nice and flexible. just take it and give it a wave."

Harry took the wand and (feeling foolish) waved it around a bit, but Mr. Ollivander snatched it out of his hand almost at once, and gave it to Laura to try. Again, it was snatched back immediately.

"Maple and phoenix feather. Seven inches. Quite whippy. Try —"

Harry tried — but he had hardly raised the wand when it, too, was snatched back by Mr. Ollivander, and passed to Laura. He took it back from her quickly too.

"No, no — here, ebony and unicorn hair, eight and a half inches, springy. Go on, go on, and try it out."

They tried. And tried. Laura had no idea what Mr. Ollivander was waiting for. The pile of tried wands was mounting higher and higher on the spindly chair, but the more wands Mr. Ollivander pulled from the shelves, the happier he seemed to become.

"Tricky customers, eh? Not to worry, we'll find the perfect match here somewhere — I wonder, now — yes, why not — unusual combination — holly and phoenix feather, eleven inches, nice and supple."

Laura and Harry had both stepped forward to try the wand, when it started to glow gold. It rose out of the box and hovered about three feet above their heads. It grew brighter and brighter, causing Laura to squint. Then, with a blinding flash of light, it separated into three glowing golden balls. Then it was over, and the light vanished, leaving three wands in the light's place. Two of the wands dropped into Laura and Harry's hands, and the third vanished with a shower of golden sparks.

It was quiet for a moment. Then Harry turned to Ollivander and asked, "What was that? That's not normal, is it?"

"I'm not sure," he replied slowly. "I've never heard of anything like it before." He looked at the box that had previously contained the wand... Or wands. "That's curious too... Curious... Curious..."

"What else is curious?" asked Laura tentatively.

Ollivander fixed his pale gaze on her, took hers and Harry's wands in his hands, and said, ""I remember every wand I've ever sold. Every single wand. It so happens that the phoenix whose tail feather is in your wand… wands, gave another feather — just one other. It is very curious indeed that you should be destined for these wands when their brother — why, their brother gave you those scars."

Laura frowned.

"Yes, thirteen-and-a-half inches. Yew. Curious indeed how these things happen. The wand chooses the wizard, remember… I think we must expect great things from you both… After all, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named did great things — terrible, yes, but great. As for what happened earlier," He said after a pause, "If I had to guess, I would say that since both of you fitted this wand perfectly, the wand replicated itself. As for the third wan-"

Hagrid coughed loudly from the chair in the corner of the shop, where he had sat down again. The twins both jumped; they had forgotten that he was there, and looked at him suspiciously. "Come on!" he said loudly. "Got ter get yeh back ter yer Aunt an' Uncle's house."

They paid seven gold galleons each for the wands, and they left the store, retracing their steps and heading towards the train station. Harry and Laura boarded the train, and Hagrid handed them another train ticket.

"Yer tickets fer Hogwarts, " he said. "First o' September — King's Cross — it's all on yer ticket. Any problems with the Dursleys, send me a letter with one of yer owls, they'll know where to find me…. See yeh soon."

Laura and Harry looked out the window to watch Hagrid as the train moved away from the station, but they blinked and he was gone.

Harry looked at her. "Magic, you reckon?" he asked.


	6. From Platform Nine and Three Quarters

Chapter 6 – A Discovery on Platform 9 ¾

Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia kept out of the twins' way for the rest of the month that remained until September 1, and Dudley clutched his bottom in fear every time he saw one of them. Laura thought it was funny for a while, but it started to get depressing being ignored after a while.

So Laura spent most of her time shut in the twins' room with her owl, which she had named Ebony, reading all of her schoolbooks, and practicing a few simple spells. She wanted to visit Jade, to tell her about everything that had happened, but Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon wouldn't let her leave the house. Now, she was rereading her Charms book, and trying to get the pencil on her desk to fly.

"_Wingardium Leviosa_" she chanted, focusing on the incantation. The pencil twitched on the desk. "_Wingardium Leviosa_", she repeated. The pencil twitched again, but this time it raised two, four, six feet into the air, and hovered near the ceiling. Laura smiled.

She practiced a few more charms, and then opened her potions textbook.

That was how Laura spent the next few weeks. Finally, the day before she was supposed to leave for Hogwarts, Harry tapped her awake.

"What's up?" she said groggily.

"It's the ticket," he replied nervously. "It says we're supposed to take the train to Platform Nine… and Three Quarters."

She sat up straight and stared at the ticket that Harry was holding for several moments. Then she said, "We'll probably be able to ask another wizard when we get there." She looked up. "We have to get there first though."

Harry went downstairs to ask Uncle Vernon for a lift to Kings Cross tomorrow, while Laura started packing. Harry came up a few minutes later laughing. "The only reason he's willing to take us is because they're taking Dudley to get his tail removed anyway."

They woke up early the next day and got in the car with their aunt, uncle, and Dudley. They reached King's Cross Station at half past ten. Uncle Vernon dumped Harry and Laura's trunks onto a cart and wheeled it into the station for them. Laura thought this was strangely kind until Uncle Vernon stopped dead, facing the platforms with a nasty grin on his face.

"Well, there you are. Platform nine — platform ten. Your platform should be somewhere in the middle, but they don't seem to have built it yet, do they?"

He was quite right, of course. There was a big plastic number nine over one platform and a big plastic number ten over the one next to it, and in the middle, nothing at all.

"Have a good term," said Uncle Vernon with an even nastier smile. He left without another word. Both of them turned and saw the Dursleys drive away. All three of them were laughing.

Harry was about to stop a passing guard to ask how to get onto the platform, but Laura stopped him. "Are you crazy?" she hissed. "I doubt he's even heard of Hogwarts. There's got to be some other way."

Just then a large group of people, all with flaming red hair, passed by, and Laura heard a little of what they were saying.

"-packed with Muggles, of course-"

The twins spun around. The speaker was a plump woman who was talking to four boys, all with flaming red hair. Each of them was pushing a trunk like Laura and Harry's (which she had made Harry push) – and they had an _owl_. Hearts hammering, the twins followed after them. They stopped and so did the twins, just near enough to hear what they were saying.

"Now, what's the platform number?" said the boys' mother

"Nine and three-quarters!" piped a small girl, also redheaded, who was holding her hand. "Mom, can't I go…"

"You're not old enough, Ginny, now be quiet. All right, Percy, you go first."

What looked like the oldest boy marched toward platforms nine and ten. Laura watched carefully, but just as the boy reached the dividing barrier, a large crowd of tourists came swarming in front of him. By the time they had cleared away, the boy had vanished.

"Fred, you next," the plump woman said.

"I'm not Fred, I'm George," said the boy. "Honestly, woman, you call yourself our mother? Can't you _tell_ I'm George?"

"Sorry, George, dear."

"Only joking, I am Fred."

Laura grinned. These boys were twins, and not only that; they were practical jokers as well. _Yes, I just might just have to get to know these two._

The boy's twin told him to hurry up, and he must have done so, because a second later, he had gone. The third brother, who was the second brother's twin, walked briskly toward the barrier. He was almost there, and then, quite suddenly, he wasn't anywhere.

Mystified, Laura walked over to the woman. "Excuse me," she said.

"Hello, dear," the woman responded. "First time at Hogwarts? Ron's new too." She pointed at the last and youngest of her sons. He was tall, thin, and gangling, with freckles, big hands and feet, and a long nose.

"Yes," said Laura. "The thing is, my brother and I aren't quite sure how to get onto the platform".

The woman looked over at Harry, who was standing quietly by the luggage cart, and smiled. "Not to worry dears. All you have to do is walk straight at the barrier between platforms nine and ten. Don't stop and don't be scared you'll crash into it, that's very important. Best do it at a bit of a run if you're nervous. Go on, go now before Ron."

"Genius…" beamed Laura. "Thank you," she said to the woman. Laura turned around and started walking towards the barrier, Harry at her heels. She looked at him and saw he had his eyes shut tight, then looked back at the wall, which was one foot away. There was a sensation like walking through a curtain of slightly warm water, and the two of them were through the barrier. Laura looked around the platform. There was a scarlet steam engine waiting, with a sign overhead that said _Hogwarts' Express, eleven o'clock_. There was an iron archway where the barrier had been with the words _Platform Nine and Three-Quarters_ on it.

She looked over Harry, who had a giant smile on his face. She found herself grinning with him too. She grabbed his hand and pulled him over towards the train. They passed a round-faced boy named Neville who had lost his toad, and a boy with dreadlocks surrounded by a small crowd. They pressed through the crowd until they found an empty compartment at the end of the train. Laura climbed aboard and took Hedwig and Ebony's cages as Harry passed them up, and tried and failed to help him heave up the heavy trunks.

"Want a hand?" asked one of the red-haired twins he'd followed through the barrier.

"Yes, please," they said together.

"Oy, Fred! C'mere and help!"

With the help of Fred and George, they lifted the two trunks and tucked them away into a corner of the compartment.

"Thanks," said Harry, pushing his sweaty hair out of his eyes.

"What's that?" said one of the redheaded twins suddenly, pointing at Harry's lightning scar.

"Blimey," said the other twin. "Are you-?"

"He is," said the first twin. "Aren't you?" he added to Harry.

"What?" asked Harry.

"_Harry Potter_." Chorused the twins.

"Oh, him," said Harry, looking slightly flustered. "I mean, yes, I am."

"Goodness Harry, forgetting your own name, now?" Laura asked, watching Harry turn even redder.

Fred and George turned to look at her. "And you must be Laura," the one on the left said in something like awe.

The one on the right started to say something, but was interrupted by a voice that came floating in through the train's open door.

"Fred? George?" it called. "Are you there?"

With a last look at Harry, the red-haired boys hopped off the train. Harry opened his mouth, but Laura shushed him, took off her wig and put it on the seat, and sat down near the window listening to the red-haired family on the platform. The mother was rubbing the youngest boy's – Ron's – nose.

"Aaah, has ickle Ronnie got somefink on his nosie?" said one of the twins, and Laura grinned.

"Shut up," said Ron.

"Where's Percy?" said their mother.

"He's coming now."

The oldest boy came striding into sight. He had already changed into his billowing black Hogwarts robes, and Harry noticed a red and gold badge on his chest with the letter _P_ on it.

"That means he's a prefect," Laura whispered to Harry. "They're sort of like the student leaders."

Laura turned to listen again just as Percy said, "Can't stay long, Mother. I'm up front, the prefects have got two compartments to themselves-"

"Oh, are you a _prefect_, Percy?" interrupted one of the twins, with an air of great surprise. "You should have said something, we had no idea."

"Hang on, I think I remember him saying something about it," said the other twin. "Once-"

"Or twice-"

"A minute-"

"All summer-"

Laura's grin grew wider and wider with every word.

"Oh, shut up," said Percy the Prefect.

"How come Percy gets new robes, anyway?" said one of the twins.

"Because he's a _prefect_," said their mother fondly. "All right, dear, well, have a good term — send me an owl when you get there."

She kissed Percy on the cheek and he left. Then she turned to the twins.

"Now, you two — this year, you behave yourselves. If I get one more owl telling me you've — you've blown up a toilet or —"

Laura laughed "Oh, think of the pranks I can pull this year! All of the new materials I have to use! You know, blowing up a toilet would be kind of fun…"

"Blown up a toilet?" said one of the twins. "We've never blown up a toilet."

"Great idea though, thanks, Mom," said the other.

"It's _not funny_. And look after Ron."

"Don't worry, ickle Ronniekins is safe with us."

"Shut up," said Ron again. He was almost as tall as the twins already and his nose was still pink where his mother had rubbed it.

"Hey, Mom, guess what? Guess who we just met on the train? You know that black-haired boy and girl who was near us in the station? Know who they are?"

"Who?"

"_Harry and Laura Potter_."

Laura and Harry listened as the little girl's voice asked, "Oh, Mom, can I go on the train and see Harry, Mom, please…"

Laura smirked at Harry who was blushing furiously. She guessed that he had never thought about what being famous meant.

"You've already seen him, Ginny, and the poor children aren't things you goggle at in a zoo. Are they really, Fred? How do you know?"

"Asked them. Saw their scars. They're really there – like lightning."

"Poor dears – no wonder they were alone, I wondered. Laura was ever so polite when she asked how to get onto the platform."

"Never mind that, do you think one of them remembers what You-Know-Who looks like?"

As the mother became very stern, Laura let her mind wander. She didn't know what Voldemort looked like. She probably would have asked questions if she had, Aunt Petunia's anti-question act or not. Laura had just stood up to get a book from her trunk, when the compartment door slid open and a girl walked in who could have been Laura's reflection. The new girl looked exactly like her, with the same emerald green eyes covered by glasses, and the same wavy black hair. In fact, the only difference between the two of them was that Laura's hair reached her waist, and this girl's was cut just at her shoulders.

"Oh, there you are!" the new girl squealed. "I've been looking all over, I thought that maybe Hagrid forgot to tell you how to get onto the platform, and then you wouldn't have come!" The girl launched herself at Laura, wrapping her into a hug.

Laura shot a look at Harry, who was staring open mouthed at the girl, and said in a slightly confused voice, "Er- Who are you?"

The girl frowned slightly, finally letting go of Laura. "I'm your sister. Nancy."

Laura raised an eyebrow. "What do you mean?" she asked. But then she remembered that sneering blone boy from the shop in Diagon Alley, asking where her sister was. Could it be true? Could they actually be triplets, instead of twins?

The girl's frown was more pronounced, and Laura noticed that she also had a lightning bolt scar on her forehead. "You mean you don't know? Didn't our Aunt Petunia tell you?"

"Ah," Laura smirked. "There lies the problem. You see, our _dearest_ Aunt Petunia decided that she wouldn't tell us anything; we had no idea that magic existed until Hagrid came and told us."

Nancy had her mouth open in horror. "You didn't know?" She sat down, and Laura sat next to her.

"Nope," Harry said from where he was still sitting in the corner of the compartment, his eyes also resting on Nancy's scar. "Why didn't you have to suffer through the Dursley's then?"

Nancy sighed. "Dumbledore thought you would know. He was really upset when Hagrid came back and told him about you not knowing about magic. But he still thought Aunt Petunia would have told you about me. You see, the night our parents died, Hagrid went to get us from our parents' house in Godric's Hollow; it was blown up because of the curse rebounding, I think. He only found you two, and he brought you two to our aunt and uncle's house.

"Dumbledore went looking for me after leaving a letter for our aunt and uncle. He met Professor Trelawney, the Divination professor at Hogwarts, there, and she had helped him look. They had finally found me buried under a collapsed piece of the ceiling, when Professor Trelawney made a prediction – and this was a real one, mind you, not the one's you get from palm reading and crystal balls. Dumbledore showed me the memory of it in his Pensieve.

"Trelawney said: '_The undiscovered triplet lies under the wreckage of her prior home, not with her brother and sister… for if the third of the three is taken to the other two, by the time their magic would have revealed, only three of the six would remain in the safety of the house protected by blood… though once all three begin to learn control over their magic, all of them may reside at the place of their relatives without danger.'_

"Well I could hardly join you, could I? Dumbledore wasn't sure whether or it meant the Dursley's would die, or the three of us would have, or they would have taken us to an orphanage, or we would have run away, or… well you get the point. None of them would be good. So I lived at Hogwarts. Dumbledore wanted me to ride the train so I could meet you guys though. I still wish you would have known about me before."

Laura said, "You and me both. Nice to meet you, sis."

"Do you really live at Hogwarts?" asked Harry.

"Yeah." Nancy said excitedly. "It's really cool. I know all of the teachers. Professor Snape, the potions teacher at Hogwarts, doesn't really like me much though. He doesn't really like anyone, come to think of it."

Just then the youngest redheaded boy came in.

"Anyone sitting there?" he asked, pointing at the seat opposite Harry. "Everywhere else is full."

The three of them shook their heads, and the boy sat down. He glanced at the three of them and looked quickly out of the window. He still had the black mark on his nose.

"Hey, Ron."

The twins were back.

"Listen, we're going down to the middle of the train – Lee Jordon's got a giant tarantula down there."

"Right," mumbled Ron.

"Harry, Laura," said the other twin, "did we introduce ourselves? Fred and George Weasley. And this is Ron, our brother. "Nice to see you again, Nancy. See you later, then."

"Bye," the triplets and Ron said. The twins slid the compartment door shut behind them.

"I know Fred and George from school," Nancy explained. "They frequently wander the castle at night; best pranksters ever."

"So you're really the Potters, then?" Ron asked after a moment.

They nodded.

"Oh – well, I thought it might be one of Fred and George's jokes," said Ron.

Nancy laughed, "I can see where you would get that from.

"Have you really got – you know…" Ron said after a moment, and he pointed at their foreheads.

They pulled their bangs off of their foreheads to reveal the lightning scars. Ron stared. Slightly uncomfortable, Laura turned to Nancy.

"So you'll be living with us next summer, with our Aunt and Uncle, right?" she asked.

"Yeah," Said Nancy.

"You two live with the Muggles, right?" Ron asked Harry, probably feeling the most comfortable talking to the other boy.

"Yup. Though I hate to break it to you Nancy," Harry said, glancing over at Nancy. "They're not exactly the kindest people you'll ever meet. No, scratch that. They're downright horrible."

"Yeah," Laura added, for Ron's benefit, "They never even told us that we were magical until the letters started arriving, and even then he kept burning them. Eventually Hagrid showed up, gave Dudley a pig's tail, and told us." She grinned. "Best day of my life."

"That… wow." Ron seemed lost for words, knowing that the two of the wizarding world's saviors didn't even know magic existed, let alone how famous they were.

Harry changed the subject. "What's it like, having three older wizarding brothers?"

"Five," said Ron, gloomily. "I'm the sixth in our family to go to Hogwarts. You could say I've got a lot to live up to. Bill and Charlie have already left – Bill was head boy and Charlie was captain of Quidditch. Percy's a Prefect now, and Fred and George mess around a lot but they're really funny and everyone likes them."

"I remember Charlie," laughed Nancy. "He was the one that went on to Romania to study dragons, right?"

"Yeah," said Ron, slightly surprised. "Bill's a Curse Breaker for Gringotts. Did you hear? It's been all over the _Daily Prophet_, but I don't suppose you get that with the Muggles – someone tried to rob a high security vault."

Harry and Laura stared, and Nancy said, "I know! And they've gotten away too, that's what makes it such big news. I don't know why, but all of the teachers at the school seemed especially upset by it, but also relieved too."

"Well, my dad reckons that they didn't take anything, that might by why. 'Course, everyone gets scared when something like this happens in case You-Know-Who's behind it."

"Voldemort?" asked Laura. As Ron jumped about a foot in the air, she asked, "What happened?"

"You said You-Know-Who's name!" said Ron, sounding both shocked and impressed. "I'd have thought you, of all people-"

"I'm not trying to be brave or anything," said Laura. "I just don't see the problem. '_Fear of a name only increases fear of the thing itself_'.

Ron stared. "What?"

"Never mind. It's not like he's going to come back from the dead and materialize in the compartment if I say his name, is he? I mean, we killed him didn't we?"

Ron shivered and changed the subject.

Around half past twelve there was a great clattering outside in the corridor and a smiling, dimpled woman slid back their door and said, "Anything off the cart, dears?"

Harry, who hadn't had any breakfast, leapt to his feet, but Ron's ears went pink and he muttered that he'd brought sandwiches. Harry went out into the corridor.

Harry and Laura had never had any money for candy with the Dursleys, and now that he had pockets rattling with gold and silver he was ready to buy as many Mars Bars as he could carry — but the woman didn't have Mars Bars. What she did have were Bettie Bott's Every Flavor Beans, Drooble's Best Blowing Gum, Chocolate Frogs. Pumpkin Pasties, Cauldron Cakes, Licorice Wands, and a number of other strange things Harry had never seen in his life. Not wanting to miss anything, he got some of everything for him and Laura and paid the woman eleven silver Sickles and seven bronze Knuts.

Ron stared as Harry brought it all back into the compartment and tipped it into an empty seat.

"Hungry, are you?"

"Starving," said Harry, taking a large bite out of a pumpkin pasty.

"We didn't have breakfast," said Laura, opening a Chocolate Frog. "You want one?" she asked Ron, who had pulled out a lumpy sandwich, and Nancy.

"Sure," said Nancy, but Ron turned red.

"Go on, have a Chocolate Frog… they aren't really frogs, are they?"

"No," said Nancy. "But see what the card is. They have cards in them to collect of famous witches and wizards."

"Cool," Laura said, pulling open the packaging and looking at the card. The man on the card wore half-moon glasses, had a long, crooked nose, and flowing silver hair, beard, and mustache. Underneath the picture was the name Albus Dumbledore. "So this is Dumbledore." She turned over the card and read:

_ALBUS DUMBLEDORE_

_CURRENTLY HEADMASTER OF HOGWARTS_

_Considered by many the greatest wizard of modern times, Dumbledore is particularly famous for his defeat of the dark wizard Grindelwald in 1945, for the discovery of the twelve uses of dragon's blood, and his work on alchemy with his partner, Nicholas Flamel. Professor Dumbledore enjoys chamber music and tenpin bowling._

Laura turned the card back over and saw, to her astonishment, that Dumbledore's face had disappeared. But then she remembered the pictures in the books that she had been reading over the summer, and they moved too.

There was a knock on the door of the compartment and the round-faced boy Harry had passed on platform nine and three-quarters came in, followed by a girl who was already wearing her new Hogwarts robes.

"Has anyone seen a toad? Neville's lost one," she said. She had a bossy sort of voice, lots of bushy brown hair, and rather large front teeth.

"No." said Laura. "But I can help you look if you like."

"Yeah, I'll come too," said Nancy.

"I'm going to stay here with Ron," said Harry.

"Bye guys," they said, and exited the compartment.

"I'm Hermione Granger," the girl said. "And this is Neville Longbottom. Who are you?"

"Nancy Potter," said Nancy. "This is my sister Laura."

"Are you really," said Hermione, while Neville looked away pointedly. Laura felt a rush of gratitude towards him; he probably understood that she didn't want attention. Hermione continued, "I know all about you, of course – I got a few extra books, for background reading; I'm Muggle born. You're in _The Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts_, and-"

"_Great Wizarding Events of the Twentieth Century_," Laura interrupted, somewhat annoyed. "I got some extra books too; my Aunt and Uncle didn't tell me or my brother anything about magic."

Nancy and Laura talked while they helped Hermione and Neville search the train for the toad.

Eventually they walked into one compartment that had three boys in it, including the one from the robes' shop in Diagon Alley. He looked up when they entered, and looked at Nancy and Laura with interest.

"So it's true, then?" he said. "They're saying all down the train that the Potters were coming to Hogwarts. I suppose I didn't quite believe you in Diagon Alley…"

"Yes," both Potters said. Laura looked over to the other boys. Both of them were thickset and looked extremely mean.

"Oh, this is Crabbe and this is Goyle," said the pale boy carelessly, noticing where she was looking. "And my name's Malfoy, Draco Malfoy." His gaze wandered over Hermione and Neville, who were standing right outside the compartment. "You'll soon find out some wizarding families are much better than others, Potter. You don't want to go making friends with the wrong sort. I can help you there." Draco held out his hand to shake with Laura, but she didn't take it. Instead she looked out the window, while Nancy spoke.

"No thank you. Hermione and Neville are nice. We were actually looking for an escaped pet, but it doesn't seem to be in here. We'll be leaving now."

The four of them walked out of the compartment, and as soon as the door closed, Laura exclaimed, "What an arrogant prat!"

"You know I normally wouldn't say things like that," said Neville quietly, "but in this case I would have to agree. Some people like Malfoy think that they're better than everyone else because they're pureblood. It's disgusting."

Hermione nodded. "He looked at me like I was dirt."

A voice echoed though the train: "We will be reaching Hogwarts in five minutes' time. Please leave your luggage on the train; it will be taken to the school separately. The four of them hustled to change, and pushed towards the door of the train with the rest of the school when it finally stopped at the station.

A lamp came bobbing over the heads of the students, and Harry heard a familiar voice: "Firs' years! Firs' years over here!"

Hagrid's big hairy face peered over the sea of heads. Slipping and stumbling, they followed Hagrid down what seemed to be a steep, narrow path. It was so dark on either side of them that Laura thought that there must be thick trees there. Nobody spoke much. Neville sniffed once or twice.

"Yeh'll get yer firs' sight o' Hogwarts in a sec," Hagrid called over his shoulder, "jus' round this bend here."

There was a loud, "Oooooh!"

The narrow path had opened suddenly onto the edge of a great black lake. Perched atop a high mountain on the other side, its windows sparkling in the starry sky, was a vast castle with many turrets and towers.

"No more'n four to a boat!" Hagrid called, pointing to a fleet of little boats sitting in the water by the shore. Laura and Nancy got into a boat with Hermione and Neville, and Harry and Ron got into the boat next to theirs with two other first years.

"Everyone in?" shouted Hagrid, who had a boat to himself. "Right then — FORWARD!"

And the fleet of little boats moved off all at once, gliding across the lake, which was as smooth as glass. Everyone was silent, staring up at the great castle overhead. It towered over them as they sailed nearer and nearer to the cliff on which it stood.

"Heads down!" yelled Hagrid as the first boats reached the cliff; they all bent their heads and the little boats carried them through a curtain of ivy that hid a wide opening in the cliff face. They were carried along a dark tunnel, which seemed to be taking them right underneath the castle, until they reached a kind of underground harbor, where they clambered out onto rocks and pebbles.

"Oy, you there! Is this your toad?" said Hagrid, who was checking the boats as people climbed out of them.

"Trevor!" Neville cried blissfully, holding out his hands. Then they clambered up a passageway in the rock after Hagrid's lamp, coming out at last onto smooth, damp grass right in the shadow of the castle. They walked up a flight of stone steps and crowded around the huge, oak front door.

"Everyone here? You there, still got yer toad?"

Hagrid raised a gigantic fist and knocked three times on the castle door.


	7. The Sorting Hat

Chapter 7 – The Sorting Hat

The door swung open at once. A tall, black-haired witch in emerald-green robes stood there. She had a very stern face and Laura's first thought was that this was not someone to cross. Then she changed her mind and decided that once she knew her way around the castle, she might be a fun person to prank.

"That's Professor McGonagall," whispered Nancy. "She's the Deputy Headmistress, the Gryffindor Head of House, and the Transfiguration teacher."

"The firs' years, Professor McGonagall," said Hagrid.

"Thank you, Hagrid. I will take them from here."

She pulled the door wide, and they followed her through the threshold. The entrance hall was so big you could have fit the whole of the Dursleys' house in it. The stone walls were lit with flaming torches like the ones at Gringotts, the ceiling was too high to make out, and a magnificent marble staircase facing them led to the upper floors. '_Amazing'_.

"I know, isn't it," said Nancy.

"Isn't what?"

"Amazing. You just said 'amazing'."

'_I didn't realize I said that out loud,' _Laura thought.

"Well you did."

"Wait a minute…" Laura said slowly as they walked across the flagged stone floor. '_Can you hear my thoughts?'_

Nancy looked at her in shock.

'_Laura? Nancy?' _Laura heard her brother's thoughts above the drone of hundreds of voices from a doorway to the right — the rest of the school must already be here.

'_That __**is**__ amazing,'_ Laura thought, awed.

'_I've never heard of anything like this before,' _Nancy thought, pensive. _Well, I guess we found a way to have uninterrupted conversations._

Professor McGonagall showed the first years into a small, empty chamber off the hall. They crowded in, standing rather closer together than they would usually have done, peering about nervously. Nancy however, was smiling .

"Welcome to Hogwarts," said Professor McGonagall. "The start-of-term banquet will begin shortly, but before you take your seats in the Great Hall, you will be sorted into your houses. The Sorting is a very important ceremony because, while you are here, your house will be something like your family within Hogwarts. You will have classes with the rest of your house, sleep in your house dormitory, and spend free time in your house common room. The four houses are called Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin. Each house has its own noble history and each has produced outstanding witches and wizards. While you are at Hogwarts, your triumphs will earn your house points, while any rule breaking (here Laura smiled) will lose house points. At the end of the year, the house with the most points is awarded the house cup, a great honor. I hope each of you will be a credit to whichever house becomes yours. The Sorting Ceremony will take place in a few minutes in front of the rest of the school. I suggest you all smarten yourselves up as much as you can while you are waiting." Her eyes lingered for a moment on Neville's cloak, which was fastened under his left ear, and on Ron's smudged nose.

Laura watched Harry as he nervously tried to flatten his hair.

"I shall return when we are ready for you," said Professor McGonagall. "Please wait quietly."

She left the chamber.

"How exactly do they sort us into houses?" Laura asked nobody in particular.

"Some sort of test, I think," Ron said nervously. "Fred said it hurts a lot, but I think he was joking."

Laura looked around anxiously and saw that everyone else looked terrified, too. No one was talking much except Hermione Granger, who was whispering very fast about all the spells she'd learned and wondering which one she'd need.

"It's not a test," said Nancy, the only one who looked calm. Everyone turned to look at her. "I've been to Sorting Ceremonies before. All you have to do is try on the Sorting Hat. It looks through your mind and it tells you what house you'll fit best in."

Everyone looked relieved, and started talking a little bit more. Laura and Nancy walked over to Hermione, while Harry turned to talk to Ron.

"What house do you want to be sorted into?" Laura asked Hermione.

"Probably Gryffindor," she said. "I heard Dumbledore himself was in it. But I suppose Ravenclaw wouldn't be _too_ ba-"

She was cut off as several people behind them screamed. Laura jumped about a foot in the air, but Nancy looked unfazed, despite the fact that about twenty ghosts had just streamed through the back wall. Pearly-white and slightly transparent, they glided across the room talking to one another and hardly glancing at the first years. They seemed to be arguing.

What looked like a fat little monk was saying: "Forgive and forget, I say, we ought to give him a second chance-"

"My dear Friar, haven't we given Peeves all the chances he deserves? He gives us all a bad name and you know, he's not really even a ghost – I say, what are you all doing here?"

A ghost wearing a ruff and tights had suddenly noticed the first years.

"Hello Sir Nicholas," said Nancy. "We're about to be sorted."

"Ah, hello Nancy" the Friar said. Addressing the rest of the first years, he said, "I hope to see you in Hufflepuff! My old house, you know."

"Move along now," said a sharp voice. "The Sorting Ceremony's about to start."

Professor McGonagall had returned. One by one, the ghosts floated away through the opposite wall.

"Now, form a line," Professor McGonagall told the first years, "and follow me."

Laura got into line behind Nancy, and they walked out of the chamber, back across the hall, and through a pair of double doors into the Great Hall.

_This place is amazing. Especially compared to Privet Drive._

Nancy laughed. Thousands and thousands of candles that were floating in midair over four long tables, where the rest of the students were sitting, lighted the Great Hall. These tables were laid with glittering golden plates and goblets. At the top of the hall was another long table where the teachers were sitting. Professor McGonagall led the first years up here, so that they came to a halt in a line facing the other students, with the teachers behind them. The hundreds of faces staring at them looked like pale lanterns in the flickering candlelight. Dotted here and there among the students, the ghosts shone misty silver. Mainly to avoid all the staring eyes, Laura looked upward and saw a velvety black ceiling dotted with stars. He heard Hermione whisper, "Its bewitched to look like the sky outside. I read about it in _Hogwarts, A History_."

"Yes, I read that too," she whispered back. It _was_ hard to believe there was a ceiling there at all, and that the Great Hall didn't simply open up to the heavens. Laura looked down again as Professor McGonagall silently placed a four-legged stool in front of the first years. On top of the stool she put a pointed wizard's hat. This hat was patched and frayed and extremely dirty.

'_Aunt Petunia wouldn't have let that in the house,_' Laura heard Harry think.

'_Yeah. You know, if I didn't know what we have to do already, I would guess that we would have to pull a rabbit out of it.'_

'_Why on earth would you think that?'_ asked Nancy.

'_It's what Muggle magicians do.' _ Laura thought.

Noticing that everyone in the hall was now staring at the hat, he stared at it, too. For a few seconds, there was complete silence.

'_I should warn you,'_ started Nancy, but before she could finish the hat twitched, and a rip near the brim opened wide like a mouth, and that hat began to sing:

_Oh, you may not think I'm pretty,_

_But don't judge on what you see,_

_I'll eat myself if you can find,_

_A smarter hat than me._

_You can keep your bowlers black,_

_Your top hats sleek and tall,_

_For I'm the Hogwarts Sorting Hat,_

_And I can cap them all._

_There's nothing hidden in your head_

_The Sorting Hat can't see,_

_So try me on and I will tell you,_

_Where you ought to be._

_You might belong in Gryffindor,_

_Where dwell the brave at heart,_

_Their daring, nerve, and chivalry,_

_Set Gryffindors apart;_

_You might belong in Hufflepuff,_

_Where they are just and loyal,_

_Those patient Hufflepuffs are true,_

_And unafraid of toil;_

_Or yet in wise old Ravenclaw,_

_If you've a ready mind,_

_Where those of wit and learning,_

_Will always find their kind;_

_Or perhaps in Slytherin,_

_You'll make your real friends,_

_Those cunning folk use any means,_

_To achieve their ends._

_So put me on! Don't be afraid!_

_And don't get in a flap!_

_You're in safe hands (though I have none)_

_For I'm a Thinking Cap!_

The whole hall burst into applause as the hat finished its song. It bowed to each of the four tables and then became quite still again.

"I'll kill Fred," said Ron. "He was going on about wrestling a troll."

"That song was a rather good one. One year, when I was six, the song was absolutely dreadful."

"So it changes from year to year?" Harry asked.

She nodded.

Professor McGonagall now stepped forward holding a long roll of parchment. "When I call your name, you will put on the hat and sit on the stool to be sorted," she said. "Abbott, Hannah!"

A pink-faced girl with blonde pigtails stumbled out of the line, put on the hat, which fell right down over her eyes, and sat down. A moment's pause –

"HUFFLEPUFF!" shouted the hat.

The table on the right cheered and clapped as Hannah went to sit down at the Hufflepuff table. Laura saw the Fat Friar waving merrily at her.

"Bones, Susan!"

"HUFFLEPUFF!" shouted the hat again, and Susan scuttled off to sit next to Hannah.

"Boot, Terry"

"RAVENCLAW!" The table second from the left clapped this time; several Ravenclaws stood up to shake hands with Terry as he joined them.

"Brocklehurst, Mandy" went to Ravenclaw too, but 'Brown, Lavender' became the first new Gryffindor, and the table on the far left exploded with cheers; Laura could see Ron's twin brothers catcalling.

'Bulstrode, Millecent' then became a Slytherin.

'_Ron told me that Voldemort was in Slytherin,' _thought Harry. _'He said that there wasn't a witch or wizard that went bad that wasn't in Slytherin._ Now that he mentioned it, the Slytherins did look rather unpleasant.

"Finch-Fletchley, Justin!"

"HUFFLEPUFF!"

Sometimes, Laura noticed, the hat shouted out the house at once, but at others it took a little while to decide. 'Finnigan, Seamus', a sandy-haired boy who was near her in the line, sat on the stool for almost a whole minute before the hat declared him a Gryffindor.

"Granger, Hermione!" Hermione almost ran to the stool and jammed the hat eagerly on her head.

"GRYFFINDOR!" shouted the hat. She heard Ron groan farther down the line.

A horrible thought struck Laura. What would happen if she, Harry and Nancy weren't in the same house?

Neville Longbottom was called, and he fell over on his way to the stool. The hat took a long time to decide with Neville. When it finally shouted "GRYFFINDOR," Neville ran ff still wearing it, and had to jog back amid gales of laughter to give it to 'MacDougal, Morag.'

Malfoy swaggered forward when his name was called and the hat had barely even touched his head when it screamed, "SLYTHERIN!"

Malfoy went to join his friends Crabbe and Goyle, looking pleased with himself.

Not many people were left now. 'Moon'…, 'Nott'…, 'Parkinson'…, then a pair of twin girls, 'Patil' and 'Patil'…, then 'Perks, Sally-Anne'…, and then, at last –

"Potter, Harry!"

As Harry stepped forward, whispers suddenly broke out like little hissing fires all over the hall.

"_Potter_, did she say?"

"_The _Harry Potter?"

Harry put on the hat. He sat on the stool for a long time. Finally, the hat shouted, "GRYFFINDOR!" He took off the hat and walked shakily toward the Gryffindor table. Laura noticed that people were cheering the loudest yet. Percy got up and shook his hand vigorously, while the Weasley twins yelled, "We got Potter! We got Potter!"

After the hall had quieted, Professor McGonagall called out "Potter, Laura!" The whispers started again, and she felt every eye on her as she walked up to the stool and put on the hat.

"Hmm," said a small voice in his ear. "Difficult. Just like your brother. Plenty of courage. A brilliant mind, too. Yes, there's lots of talent. A nice thirst to prove yourself as well, but you're confident too. But where shall I put you?"

Laura gripped the edges of the stool and thought, _Not Slytherin. I don't want to be like Voldemort. Don't put me in Slytherin._

"Not Slytherin, eh?" said the small voice. "Are you sure? You could be great you know, it's all here in your head, and Slytherin will help you on the way to greatness, no doubt about that. No, you don't; you're stubborn, like your brother and your parents. And you're a prankster like your father, too. Well then, better be GRYFFINDOR!"

Laura smiled and walked over the Gryffindor table amidst deafening cheers. She sat down in between her brother and Hermione. The Weasley twins were right across from her, and the ghost of Sir Nicholas reached across the table and patted her arm, giving her the horrible feeling that he'd just plunged into a bucket of ice-cold water.

She could see the High Table properly now. At the end nearest to her sat Hagrid, who caught her eye and gave her a thumbs up. Laura grinned back. And there, in the center of the High Table, in a large gold chair, sat Albus Dumbledore. Laura recognized him at once from the card she'd gotten out of the Chocolate Frog on the train. Dumbledore's silver hair was the only thing in the whole hall that shone as brightly as the ghosts. Laura spotted Professor Quirrell, too, the nervous young man from the Leaky Cauldron. He was looking very peculiar in a large purple turban.

And now Professor McGonagall cleared her throat for silence, and called, 'Potter, Nancy'. There were no whispers this time, presumably because she had lived there for the past ten years, but the Weasley twins gave a couple of cheers.

She sat on the stool for even longer than Harry, but the hat finally called out "GRYFFINDOR!" She cheered with the rest of the table as Nancy was sorted into Gryffindor. There were only four people left now.

'Thomas, Dean' a black boy even taller than Ron, joined them at the Gryffindor table.

'Turpin, Lisa,' became a Ravenclaw and then it was Ron's turn. Laura noticed that he had turned a delicate shade of green. The hat had barely been on his head for a second before it shouted "GRYFFINDOR!"

Ron walked over and collapsed into the chair next to him. "Well done, Ron, excellent," said Percy Weasley pompously as 'Zabini, Blaise,' was made a Slytherin. Professor McGonagall rolled up her scroll and took the Sorting Hat away.

Albus Dumbledore had gotten to his feet. He was beaming at the students, his arms opened wide, as if nothing could have pleased him more than to see them all there. "Welcome," he said. "Welcome to a new year at Hogwarts! Before we begin our banquet, I would like to say a few words. And here they are: Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak! Thank you!"

He sat back down. Everybody clapped and cheered. Laura laughed, while Harry asked Percy uncertainly, "Is he – a bit mad?"

"Mad?" said Percy airily. "He's a genius! Best wizard in the world! But his is a bit mad, yes. Potatoes, Harry?"

Laura glanced back at the table, and saw that the dishes in front of her were now piled with food. There was roast beef, roast chickon, pork chops and lamb chops, sausages, bacon and steak, boiled potatoes, roast potatoes, fries, pudding, peas, carrots, gravy, ketchup, and… '_Peppermint humbugs?'_

Nancy laughed. '_Yeah. Dumbledore has always had some strange obsession with them.'_

Laura piled her plate with everything except the peppermints and began to eat. It was all delicious.

"That does look good," said the ghost in the ruff sadly, watching Harry cut up his steak.

"Can't you -?" he asked.

"I haven't eaten for nearly five hundred years," said the ghost. "I don't need to, of course, but one does miss it.

"I know who you are!" said Ron suddenly. "My brothers told me about you — you're Nearly Headless Nick!"

"I would _prefer _you to call me Sir Nicholas de Mimsy —" the ghost began stiffly, but sandy-haired Seamus Finnigan interrupted.

"_Nearly _Headless? How can you be _nearly _headless?"

Sir Nicholas looked extremely miffed, as if their little chat wasn't going at all the way he wanted.

"Like _this_," he said irritably. He seized his left ear and pulled. His whole head swung off his neck and fell onto his shoulder as if it was on a hinge. Someone had obviously tried to behead him, but not done it properly. Looking pleased at the stunned looks on their faces, Nearly Headless Nick flipped his head back onto his neck, coughed, and said, "So — new Gryffindors! I hope you're going to help us win the house championship this year? Gryffindors have never gone so long without winning. Slytherins have got the cup six years in a row! The Bloody Baron's becoming almost unbearable — he's the Slytherin ghost."

Laura looked over at the Slytherin table and saw a horrible ghost sitting there, with blank staring eyes, a gaunt face, and robes stained with silver blood.

He was right next to Malfoy who, Harry was pleased to see, didn't look too pleased with the seating arrangements.

"How did he get covered in blood?" asked Seamus with great interest.

"I've never asked," said Nearly Headless Nick delicately.

"I did," said Nancy. "When I was six. But he just stared at me and then floated away.

When everyone had eaten as much as they could, the remains of the food faded from the plates, leaving them sparkling clean as before. A moment later the desserts appeared. Blocks of ice cream in every flavor you could think of, apple pies, treacle tarts, chocolate éclairs and jam doughnuts, trifle, strawberries, Jell-O, rice pudding…

As Laura helped herself to a treacle tart, the talk turned to their families.

"I'm half-and-half," said Seamus. "Me dad's a Muggle. Mom didn't tell him she was a witch 'til after they were married. Bit of a nasty shock for him."

The others laughed.

"What about you, Neville?" asked Ron.

"Well, my Gran brought me up and she's a witch," said Neville, "but the family thought I was all-Muggle for ages. My Great Uncle Algie kept trying to catch me off my guard and force some magic out of me – he pushed me off the end of Blackpool pier once, I nearly drowned – but nothing happened until I was eight. Great Uncle Algie came around for dinner, and he was hanging me out of an upstairs window by the ankles when my Great Auntie Enid offered him a meringue and he accidentally let go. But I bounced – all the way down the garden and into the road. They were all really pleased, Gran was crying, she was so happy. And you should have seen their faces when I got in here – they thought I might not be magic enough to come, you see. Great Uncle Algie was so pleased he bought me my toad.

Oh Laura's other side, Percy Weasley and Hermione were talking about lessons (I _do_ hope they start right away, there's so much to learn, I'm particularly interested in Transfiguration, you know, turning something into something else, of course, it's supposed to be very difficult-"; "You'll be starting small, just matches into needles and that sort of thing-".

Laura glanced at the High Table again. Hagrid was drinking deeply from his goblet. Professor McGonagall was talking to Professor Dumbledore. Professor Quirrell, in his absurd turban, was talking to a teacher with greasy black hair, a hooked nose, and sallow skin. It happened very suddenly. The hook-nosed teacher looked past Quirrell's turban straight into Laura's eyes – and a sharp, hot pain shot across the scar on Harry's forehead.

Laura clapped a hand to her head, and she heard Harry and Nancy do the same. But the pain had gone as quickly as it had come. Harder to shake off was the feeling Harry had gotten from the teacher's look – a feeling that he didn't like Laura at all. '_The teacher with the greasy hair is Professor Snape, right?'_

'_Yeah,'_ thought Nancy. _He teaches Potions, but he doesn't want to – everyone knows he's after Quirrell's job. Knows an awful lot about the Dark Arts.'_

At last, the desserts too disappeared, and Professor Dumbledore got to his feet again. The hall fell silent.

"Ahem – just a few more words now that we are all fed and watered. I have a few start-of-term notices to give you. First years should note that the forest on the grounds is forbidden to all pupils. And a few of our older students would do well to remember that as well." Dumbledore's twinkling eyes flashed in the direction of the Weasley twins. "I have also been asked by Mr. Filch, the caretaker, to remind you all that no magic should be used between classes in the corridors. Quidditch trials will be held in the second week of the term. Anyone interested in playing for his or her house team should contact Madam Hooch. And finally, I must tell you that this year, the third-floor corridor on the right-hand side is out of bounds to everyone who does not wish to die a very painful death."

_That's a new one…_ Nancy thought.

"He's not serious?" Harry whispered to Percy.

"Must be," said Percy, frowning at Dumbledore. "It's odd, because he usually gives us a reason why we're not allowed to go somewhere – the forest's full of dangerous beasts, everyone knows that. I do think he might have told us prefects, at least."

"And now, before we go to bed, let us sing the school song!" cried Dumbledore. Laura glanced at Nancy, who was laughing silently, to the teachers at the High Table, whose smiles had become rather fixed. Dumbledore gave his wand a little flick, as if he was trying the get a fly off the end, and a long golden ribbon flew out of it, which rose high above the tables and twisted itself, snakelike, into words.

"Everyone pick their favorite tune," said Dumbledore, "and off we go!"

And the whole school bellowed:

_Hogwarts, Hogwarts, Hoggy Warty Hogwarts,_

_Teach us something please,_

_Whether we be old and bald,_

_Or young with scabby knees,_

_Our heads could do with filling,_

_With some interesting stuff,_

_For now they're bare and full of air,_

_Dead flies and bits of fluff,_

_So teach us things worth knowing,_

_Bring back what we've forgot,_

_Just do your best, we'll do the rest,_

_And learn until our brains all rot._

Everybody finished the song at different times. At last, only the Weasley twins were left singing along to a very slow funeral march. Dumbledore conducted their last few lines with his wand and when they had finished, he was one of those who clapped loudest.

"Ah, music," he said, wiping his eyes. "A magic beyond all we do here! And now, bedtime. Off you trot!"

The Gryffindor first years followed Percy through the chattering crowds, out of the Great Hall, and up the marble staircase. Laura's mind was working, memorizing the different hidden passageways and portraits so that she would be able to find her way around the castle. They climbed more staircases, and Laura was just wondering how much farther they had to go when they came to a sudden halt.

A bundle of walking sticks were floating in midair ahead of them, and as Percy took a step toward them they started throwing themselves at him.

"Hello, Peeves!" Nancy called. There was a pop, and a little man with wicked, dark eyes and a wide mouth appeared, floating cross-legged in the air, clutching the walking sticks.

"Oooooooh!" he said, with an evil cackle. "Ickle Firsties! What fun!"

"Do you want me to go to the Bloody Baron, Peeves?" Percy yelled. Peeves let out a rude noise, like air being let out of a balloon, and he swooped suddenly at them. They all ducked.

"Go away, Peeves, or the Baron'll hear about this, I mean it!" barked Percy.

Peeves stuck out his tongue and vanished, dropping the walking sticks. Laura pulled Neville out of the way and they clattered on the ground where he had been standing a moment before. They heard him zooming away, rattling coats of armor as he passed.

"You want to watch out for Peeves," said Percy, as they set off again. "He's a poltergeist, and the Bloody Baron's the only one who can control him, he won't even listen to us prefects. Here we are."

At the very end of the corridor hung a portrait of a very fat woman in a pink silk dress.

"Password?" she said.

"Caput Draconis," said Percy, and the portrait swung forward to reveal a round hole in the wall. They all scrambled through it — Neville needed a leg up — and found themselves in the Gryffindor common room, a cozy, round room full of squashy armchairs.

Percy directed the girls through one door to their dormitory and the boys through another. Laura and Nancy said goodbye to Harry, and followed Hermione, Parvarti, and Lavender. At the top of a spiral staircase — they were obviously in one of the towers — they found their beds at last: five four-posters hung with deep gold, silk curtains. Their trunks had already been brought up. Too tired to talk much, they pulled on their pajamas and fell into bed.

"So how do you like Hogwarts?" Nancy asked.

"It's great!" said Hermione. "It's so much better than I thought it would be!"

Nancy smirked. "You haven't even seen the classes yet."

Laura was going to say something, but she fell asleep almost at once.

Perhaps she had eaten a bit too much, because she had a very strange dream. She was with Harry and Nancy and they were all wearing turbans like Professor Quirrell's, and hers kept talking to her, telling her that she and her siblings must transfer to Slytherin at once, because it was their destiny. She told the turban he didn't want to be in Slytherin; it got heavier and heavier; she tried to pull it off but it tightened painfully — and there was Malfoy, laughing at her as he struggled with it — then Malfoy turned into the hook-nosed teacher, Snape, whose laugh became high and cold — there was a burst of green light and Laura woke, sweating and shaking.

She rolled over and fell asleep again, and when she woke next day, she didn't remember the dream at all.


End file.
